


Kisses in Methane Rain

by lethal_asp_heiroglyph



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Porn With Plot, Science, Science Girlfriends, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethal_asp_heiroglyph/pseuds/lethal_asp_heiroglyph
Summary: Rose goes to Titan and fucks Kanaya there. (Eventually, I promise. WIP.)Near future and somewhat alternate history AU.





	

With a clicking sound, the image on the wall changed. Instead of a dark field covered in blue spots, the nuclei of cells, there were now a few spare outlines of fluorescent green, glowing in the darkness.

Rose frowned at the microscope image projected onto the wall. There should have been more than just a few stem cells in this bone marrow sample. With a few precise movements of her fingers, she adjusted the position of the microscope slide, and watched the cells scroll by on the projection like she was flying over a fluorescent landscape. No matter where she looked, the green outlines were sparse.

She sighed, switched off the microscope, put the slide back in its box, and opened the door out of Dave’s bedroom.

Blinking in the light and inhaling the smell of marijuana, she looked for her friend. He was watching idiotic cartoons on the couch, which took up almost the entirety of the tiny room, just a few feet away from the wall on which the cartoons were projected. He looked up at her—or, at least, faced his head towards her, she couldn’t see where his eyes were pointing through the utterly pointless shades.

“Rose! You done? Come enjoy the classics with me.” He gave her a double guns gesture, accompanied by a whip crack noise. 

Obligingly, she sat beside him on the couch, though not without saying, “Johnny Test would have been better lost to the mists of time. I’d burn a library myself if it contained the last remaining copy.” On the screen, Johnny made a double guns gesture, accompanied by a whip crack noise. Rose wondered how Dave had activated the sound earlier; she didn’t see a soundboard.

Dave finished rolling a joint. Instead of lighting it, Rose was surprise to see him place it in a pile of already rolled joints. “What’re those for?” she asked.

“It’s a business venture of mine,” said Dave, beginning another joint. “Doobie Dave’s Jazz Cigarettes. An artisan experience, for those who long to return to a simpler time of cottage industry and get high in it.” Dave held up the finished joint in front of his shades; Rose wondered if he could see it. “Flawless. I figured I could make my debut at the pride parade.”

“Wow, your own joint company,” mused Rose. “I suppose it was prophetic when your brother chose red eyes for you.” She reached over and took it out of his hand, and lit up.

Dave began rolling another, Rose took another pull, and Johnny Test was humiliated by his sisters. Dave asked, “How’s your bone marrow looking?”

Rose exhaled smoke. “As unwilling to reproduce outside its natural habitat as a giant panda. Having exhausted my technical knowledge, my next idea is simply to play amorous music and hope it gets in the mood.”

“Are you sure it’s even possible to produce your own blood? Don’t the people who do this for a living have college degrees?”

“It’s possible, just risky. Without the expertise you could end up injecting a leukemia. But it’s routine for the kind of remote station I’m going to be working on. You just hope that you won’t need the transfusion.” She sighed. “I’m going to need much more practice with that kit,” she said, gesturing back towards his room with her thumb. A whip crack noise played. “What the fuck…” Her eyes widened in horror.

“Enjoying my new sound system? It’s connected to a camera in my shades…” Dave tapped his aviator sunglasses, producing an exaggerated “clink”ing noise, and Rose gasped. “It detects gestures, for a fully immersive…”

“You monster,” she intoned, her neglected joint dimming in her hand. She saw the shit-eating grin that Dave was struggling to suppress, and was disgusted by it. “Johnny Test was a scourge enough upon our world when it was fake. I cannot bear to exist within Johnny Test, Dave. I can no longer bear to exist.”

Dave gave her double guns; from the “ding” sound that followed the whip crack, she surmised that he had winked.

—

Rose was mostly silent as the taxi took her and Dave to the Houston gay pride parade. She thought about cells, marijuana, Johnny Test, and her mother, struggling to maintain continuity through the marijuana haze. Once Dave made some comment, causing her to totally lose her train of thought, and she responded coldly, with some unsatisfactory snark she could thankfully no longer remember.

They arrived at the good part, near the end, when night had fallen and the trucks in the parade were like moving dance clubs, playing music with pounding bass and nihilstic, hedonistic lyrics. On the back of each truck, along with the DJ and the sound system, were about 15 people in absurd outfits—dressed as sexy pirates, sexy birds, sexy trolls, or just sexy. Each car was followed by a crowd of people dancing. Dave and Rose watched the parade go by on the sidewalk. One troll in particular caught Rose's eye. She was dancing on the back of a parade truck, wearing a long red skirt with large buttons and a black T-shirt tied in a knot above her stomach.

“Dave,” Rose said, “I think that one might be a real troll.” The woman had no belly button.

“It’s so stupid that this is even a mystery,” replied Dave, holding a paper bag with “DDJC” written on it in sharpie. “All our lives aliens in TV shows looked like humans in costume. And they actually turned out to look like that. Star Trek was more right than it had any right to be. Aliens  _do_  have boobs, and you  _can_  fuck 'em.” They were walking now, to follow from the sidelines the car with the suspected troll. The troll's hands were in the air and her hips rotated expertly; she looked utterly absorbed in the music.

“Well,  _you_  can fuck 'em,” said Rose. “Despite that their tentacle resembles, in a certain respect, a phallus, it is not made to penetrate. Wrapping a tentacle around a penis is actually closer to their natural mating behavior.”

“I read the same Reddit AMA,” said Dave, “but I’m in the same boat as you. In the same fleet, where sailors are assigned to ships according to their junk. My gigantic throbbing cock is more of a symbol. It's real only in the sense that the confident masculinity it symbolizes is very, very real.”

“Mhmm,” said Rose, when Dave seemed finished adding appendices to his revelation. “Let’s go into the crowd.”

“I’m coming out to you, Rose,” Dave complained. “This is a big moment.”

“Yes, you and the rest of the 20% of our batch that turned out trans,” said Rose. It was one of the big kinks in the first generation of  _in vitro_  pregnancy, and almost sank the technology commercially. But though the revelation was half-expected, she still surprised herself with her disinterest in her friend's genitals. She supposed her mind was elsewhere. They were in the crowd behind the truck now, close enough to the subwoofer to feel the bass in their stomachs, and her eyes were still on the suspected troll. Rose danced awkwardly and self-consciously, and Dave sold joints.

And when the night was over, Rose still hadn’t had the balls—symbolic balls, as nonexistent as the warrior's courage they symbolized—to talk to her.


End file.
